


Here I am Imagining

by phandomghostwriter



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Depression, Fluff, M/M, No actual sex, References to Depression, References to Sex, SO MUCH FLUFF
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-21
Updated: 2018-05-21
Packaged: 2019-05-09 22:54:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 782
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14725148
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/phandomghostwriter/pseuds/phandomghostwriter
Summary: All the things Phil imagines when he imagines Dan.





	Here I am Imagining

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first ever fan fiction so bare with me. Thank you so much for taking a look.

With Dan I imagine a piano. A piano that he starts to play slow at first, the same notes unsure, the beginnings of new songs he’s never played before. He warms up, dancing his fingers over the keys for hours in the way that some may find annoying. I love every moment, right up to the end when he’s confidently singing along to a song he taught himself because he still can’t read music properly. 

I imagine movies. Cuddled up in the sofa crease not saying a word because nothing needs to be said. I can feel it, and so can he. Curled up with pillows and blankets and snacks and themes that leave us hanging on, and dreaming of something else. Chaste kisses on cheeks and noses and lips. Hands and legs and torsos. 

I imagine Tube rides. Both of us far too tall for our own good clinging on to dirty hand rails, laughing about adventures, talking about our days, or sometimes saying nothing at all, just huddled together with a sense of belonging, knowing that in a sea of strangers we found each other. 

I imagine sunny days. The light waking us up from our sleep, the way it would hit his face illuminating my favorite parts making him look at peace. long eyelashes brushed against olive skin. Freckles I can count on one hand like a constellation laid out on his face just for me. The occasional walk up north tucked away in a place no one would find us where the light was so bright it would make our cheeks pink and dots appear in our eyes.

I imagine holidays. Time spent unwrapping gifts, wearing jumpers, hanging decorations, mingling with family, scented candles, pound land crackers, fireworks, lattes, cocktails, chocolates, lights, tinsel, bobbles, costumes, sweets, biscuits, scary movies followed by sleepless nights, time with friends, snow, swim shorts, mistletoe, and kisses, more kisses than could ever be counted. 

I imagine socks. Socks everywhere. Socks on his feet, and socks on my feet. Socks on his floor, socks on my floor, socks on our floor. Socks in the wash. Socks on the kitchen table. Socks in my bed. Socks in the bathroom. Socks behind chairs. Socks in the game room. Socks in the sofa crease. Socks in the bedside drawer. Socks nervously rubbing together while editing videos late at night. Socks tickling my leg as we cuddle. Socks left on in the haste of sex. I love socks.

I imagine filming. The way I push him out to the other side of the flat still apprehensive of what he will think if he hears me. All the edits and jump cuts, innuendos, jokes, mistakes, accidents, lights, stress. It really can become a lot of stress. A blend of showing who we are, while also wanting to be entertaining, as well as keep a piece of ourselves for ourselves, and for each other. 

I imagine his comforting hands. The way he always seems to know when I need a hug, arms always going under and not over even though he has grown taller than me. Hands that roam my face and hair. Hands that find their way to my back and waist and chest, and can be so gentle when I need them to be. Hands that move fringe and wipe tears and dance fingertips across my shoulder in the morning. Hands that can do so many beautiful things.

I sometimes imagine Dan’s depression. I imagine lying in bed with him huddled close while he sleeps. Drawing him baths. Walks around town, and even walks around the flat that he frankly doesn’t want to go on but relents for me. Sitting on the floor next to him while he lays there silent. Making him dinner. Watching movies. Kissing every part of his face, nose, cheek, eyelids. Every part of his skin, sucking, biting. In the end, it all comes down to trying. Trying anything to to help, and just being there when it doesn’t. He doesn’t expect me to fix everything, nor do I now expect that of myself. While I hate that he has to go through this, I love that I can be the one who is there closest to get him through it.

Most of all I imagine a future. Plans splayed out just for us. All the hope in the world. When I close my eyes to imagine I see him. I imagine him. I have entangled my life in his, and he, his life in mine. No matter what the goal, what the trial, what the plan, it is with him, something my young self could have never imagined, but here I am imagining.

**Author's Note:**

> I could have taken this in a million directions but I felt like keeping it as PG as possible as well as keeping it as current as possible. If you want a Dan perspective let me know.


End file.
